Just Fine
by ifithasapulse
Summary: Stuck inside a cursed elevator, Bela and Dean are forced to make amends with each other or else tear the other apart. Which will it be and what troubling confessions will arise?


"I swear to God, Bela, I will end you."

"Oh, Dean, you have such a way with words."

Dean glared at her from the opposite side of the elevator, while Bela smiled sweetly back. The elevator was empty besides for them, and Bela's gold bangles jangled merrily as she checked her matching gold watch.

"If you screw with my hunt, Lugosi, so help me God, I will make you suffer pain that you have never imagi-"

Bela narrowed her eyes at him, arching a delicate brow. "Fascinating as that sounds, Dean, I have my own things to deal with. Exchanging niceties with you in an elevator was not part of the plan, so I bid you farewell and a nice day."

She made to exit when the elevator made a distressed _ping. _"What the hell," she muttered distractedly, tucking a few loose curls from her face as she scowled at the elevator buttons.

Dean frowned, stepping beside her to examine the elevator. He swore and made an exasperated expression in the direction of the elevator ceiling. "It's jammed," he announced grimly, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back onto his heels.

_"What?"_

Dean rolled his eyes at her. "It's jammed, Lugosi. Hate to break it to you, but we're going to be in here for a while."

Bela crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him as if it were his fault. "I don't have time for that. I have a meeting with an executive on the seventy-fifth floor at eleven; it's already ten fifty."

"I know what time it is," Dean snapped back, irritated enough on his own without her added harassment. "There's nothing you can do about it, Lugosi."

"The phone-"

"-has been disconnected," Dean cut across her neatly, watching her expression grow darker by the second.

"How do you know," she demanded instantly, her sharp tone bordering on sulky as she scowled at the elevator in her frustration.

Dean grinned at her irritation. Maybe this wouldn't be so boring after all. "Sammy and I checked it out earlier today. This building is the most unsafe structure in all of New York."

"Then call him."

"If only. My phone fell into the crack of the elevator as I got on. Whatever is haunting this building really does not want its inhabitants connected to the outside world once they step in here," Dean replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bela pressed her lips together tightly then snarled, "Fantastic. I suppose we'll just rot here till someone notices the smell.

"Someone will find out soon," Dean sighed. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair then fell into silence. Bela followed suit, studying her nails as though she was going to be quizzed on it later.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Dean looked up.

"So."

"So."

"You're dressed nicely," Dean noted casually, eyeing the sleek cream silk dress. It was edged at the collar, hemline, and sleeves by about an inch of gold silk. Her slender waist was emphasized by a thin gold leather belt and her feet were encased in a pair of royal blue leather flats.

She looked good enough to eat.

Bela lifted a narrow shoulder and dropped it again in a simple, graceful gesture that fascinated him. "You meet an executive, you dress well," she quipped. She checked her watch again with a frustrated sigh, then added, "Especially if he's single, handsome, and so very, very _wealthy._"

Dean's hands involuntarily clenched into fists and he narrowed his eyes at her half-smirk. "Who is this again?"

"None of your business," Bela drawled, delighted at the storm gathering in his eyes.

Dean deliberately relaxed his tone, loosened his fists. "At least tell me this: are you conning him or is he hiring you to con someone else?"

Bela grinned conspiratorially and it felt as though she was letting him in on a secret. "A little bit of both," she replied easily.

"And there is no point whatsoever in telling you what you're doing is wrong."

Her gaze sharpened, but she blinked slowly, fluttering long, dark lashes. "No point at all."

Swiftly shifting gears, Dean picked a different topic. "Do you know what he wants you to steal?"

"No, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Besides," she added, raising a brow. "It isn't the safest topic to discuss in public."

Dean made a show of looking around the otherwise empty elevator. "I don't see much public about this."

"There are eyes everywhere," Bela replied, and the comfortable gleam in her eyes darkened into a jaded glitter Dean knew oh-so well. It was the same one he saw in his own eyes every morning. "You of all people should know that."

Dean cocked his head to the side, eyeing her carefully. The change in her moods was an unending mystery to him. Not because he didn't understand why she changed her moods, because he did, but because he couldn't even begin to comprehend how easily her temper flashed. "I make exceptions."

"I don't," Bela contradicted, her foot beginning to tap a bored rhythm into the floor of the elevator. Her head lolled lazily from side to side as she stretched, and Dean watched the pulse at her neck hammer out a steady beat under the cloak of creamy skin. "Not for something like this."

"Your paranoia is ridiculous," Dean drawled, though he knew she was right to be so mistrustful. He checked his watch and sighed, imitating Bela's voice. "Oh, no. It looks like I'm going to be late for my appointment with the _rich handsome executive_."

Her spine stiffened, and her chin came up proudly. "I don't need your sarcasm in a situation like this."

"Well, get used to it, Lugosi, because I've got tons to spare."

They bickered and bantered for a few more minutes when Bela abruptly stopped responding. She gazed unseeingly at the glossy walls of the elevator, her knuckles whitening on her grip on her purse.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean started forward, concerned, as her cloudy gaze snapped onto his.

"What? Sorry – I…yes, I'm fine," she stammered. A blush flamed along her cheeks and she ducked her head, tawny waves obscuring her face.

Dean stared at her, bewildered. "Are you okay," he asked again, uncertainly touching the back of his hand to her forehead. He wasn't exactly sure why he was helping her, but all he knew was that seeing her upset over being late to an appointment and seeing her upset over some sort of waking nightmare were two every different things.

Her cheeks burned brighter and she pushed his hand away irritably. "I'm _fine_," she snapped, evidently struggling to pull herself together. "I just…"

She trailed off, unable to find anything to say. Dean frowned, unsure of how to act around this new, unstable Bela. When she was sarcastic, dark, witty, then he knew what to do. But a vulnerable, shaken Bela?

He had no idea how to deal with that.

She heaved a sigh, and leaned against the wall of the elevator. She tried to make it look casual, but Dean could see the pallor under her fading blush. She was leaning against it for support, he realized, and a Bela who needed support was not on the list of things Dean knew how to handle.

"I've been having these flashbacks," she confessed, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop them. "I don't know exactly why they strike, or the pattern of when they do…but I've had them for a few weeks now and I thought they'd go away…"

Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, and she broke off again, her breathing coming in quick and ragged.

_What the hell…?_

Instinctively, Dean held onto her, her shallow breathing muffled into his shoulder. "It's okay," he murmured into her ear. He rubbed small circles onto her back and waited for her breathing to even out. "It's okay, Lugosi, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you, alright?"

"I don't know about that," she mumbled against his shoulder. She gave a half-hearted push against him, but finally gave in when he didn't let go, and relaxed into him. "It's odd. There are these…memories that keep on coming back to me. Memories I haven't thought about in years."

"Like killing your parents?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Bela jerked back, her eyes wide and shocked.

"I didn't mean – Bela – "

She shook her head, swallowing roughly. "Whatever, Winchester. You can't hurt me by speaking the truth."

He floundered for words, his silver tongue turned to lead by the barely concealed hurt in her wide eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets roughly, feeling uncomfortable and even a little guilty for reasons beyond his control. "Bela, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, yes, you did." She whirled back at him, her eyes glittering with fresh tears and jabbed him in the chest with a stiff finger. "You meant every word, Dean. You would give anything for your parents back and here I am, mocking you by my mere existence because I killed willingly what you would die to have back. Isn't that right?"

Dean glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't pretend to understand me," he sneered.

Bela gave a sharp, brittle laugh. "Of course not," she jeered. "How dare snobbish little Bela Talbot, with a pole stuck halfway up her English arse, judge the grand Dean Winchester? How dare I make false and baseless statements about a man that I barely know? After all, I _am _the one who collected all of my information form biased friends. And I make all my judgments about you based on what little of your thoughts you choose to share with me."

Bela's voice shook slightly as she leaned a little closer. "Or was that _you_?"

Dean's throat felt dustier than a century old tomb. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. You know only what I let you see and what your friends have told you. If I talked to _my _friends about hunters, what do you imagine they would say? Do you think the man they would tell me about is the man you really are, Dean?"

"No! I mean, yes. A little. God, how the hell am I supposed to know what your friends think of me?"

Bela stepped just a little closer, her nails pressing into her palms as her fists clenched tightly. "I can imagine what Bobby has told you about me."

Dean sighed wearily. "What do you want me to say, Bela? I'm sorry that I judged you about _killing your parents_?"

"I don't want to hear anything from you," Bela shot back, her voice throbbing with emotion. "I don't care what you think about me, Dean Winchester! You can assume everything that you want and it doesn't make a damn difference to me!"

Her voice echoed hollowly in the elevator, ringing in a heavy silence. Dean leaned back against the elevator walls, drained. He stared at his watch then tapped his foot.

Finally, he glanced up at Bela. She was rummaging in her purse for something. Awkwardly, Dean tried to think of something to say.

"Tell me about the visions."

Bela drew in a long breath, the let it out. "I'm at my parents' home in the South of France."

She broke off, glancing up at him as though fearing he would laugh. When he didn't, she continued, "I'm twelve. My mom has gone shopping for my birthday present, but she doesn't think I know. The cook is out and the laundry lady is asleep."

She paused and Dean watched the fear flicker over her beautiful features. Usually, he would revel in the break of composure, but for some reason he can't. Probably the same damn stupid reason he can't bring himself to hate her.

She continued, her voice softer and tentative. "Father is home. He tells me I should go to my room and wait for him."

The silence in the elevator was crushing. Dean's lungs constricted, but he found he couldn't inhale properly. Struggling for his own composure, he prompted her. "Then what?"

"I act like I'm going to my room, but once I'm up there, I crawl out the window. I have to run away. I get to the edge of the rooftop and then I scale my way down, using the window ledges to help me."

Dean frowned, his mind whirring to put together the pieces. "How old were you again?"

"Twelve."

"Damn. And you crawled out of a _window_? Why?"

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, her eyes were averted. "To escape."

"From your dad?"

Bela nodded once. "Yes."

Something clicked in Dean's head, falling into place almost audibly. For a second, his vision actually went red and he fought for composure. "Did he…were you…?"

Bela bowed her head. "I shouldn't have told you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It's none of your business."

"Hey," Dean caught her by the arm as she began to turn away. Holding her tightly to him, Dean felt a tear slide against his collarbone. "He can't hurt you anymore."

Bela gave a muffled snort. "Because I _murdered_ him."

A _twang _went off in Dean's chest. "He deserved to die."

Her head jerked back in shock. "What? What did you say?"

"I said, he deserved to die," Dean repeated. "He _deserved_ to die, Bela. Why didn't you just tell me before?"

"You never asked. Besides, I didn't think you would care."

Dean rested his forehead against hers, his green eyes focused on her own. "I care, Lugosi. We'll figure out the visions, okay? You're going to be just fine."

And even though she was late to her meeting, trapped in a cursed elevator, and having flashbacks to her worst memories, Bela Talbot felt more _okay _than she had in a long time.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize for that rushed ending, I just didn't know how to end this one. But this story has taken me ages to write! It is dedicated to the marvelous Charmita, who is the most supportive reviewer and friend anyone could ask for. I hope you liked this, wonderful readers, and please leave me a review telling me what you did and didn't like. It's an easy way to make a difference in someone's witing. **

**Thank you for reading and I will see you all soon!**


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